Driving Lessons and Forms of Identification
by misspelledideas
Summary: The bunker is cold. Castiel sucks at driving. A shortish one-shot that I wrote. Destiel. Rated T for language and a kiss.


**A/N This is a Destiel fanfic. Dean and Castiel are two male characters from the t.v. show Supernatural, and I do not own them. If you dislike this pairing, or do not approve of homosexual relationships, please do not read. I am being polite to you, be polite to me back. Warnings for a slightly OOC Dean, and slight A/U-ness(only if squint.)Goodbye, and allow the shipping to commence.**

It was kind of chilly in the bunker.

Scratch that.

On mornings like this, it was freeze your ass off cold in the bunker. Breath froze in the air. Sore muscles ached. Creaky pipes rattled, trying to offset the bitter cold.

On mornings like this, no one would be awake normally. Kevin would clutch his arms closer to his body, unconsciously rolling slightly closer to the edge of the bed. He's been choosing, as of late, to stay in the bunker, overnight, more and more often, until finally somebody(Kevin suspects it was Dean, he's much more caring than he chooses to let on) got a pull out couch, and light yellow, soft sheets. They remind Kevin of sunshine. He could use that reminder.

On mornings like this, Sam would definitely still be asleep, catching the last little bits of sleep that he could get before finally waking up, hours later, only to put on more layers of clothes and putter out to the kitchen. He'd allow himself to wake up slowly, a luxury he couldn't normally(ever) afford. He'd sit with a cup of coffee at the tiny table, maybe read the paper. He's not sure. There aren't many morning like this for him to reflect back on.

On mornings like this, Dean would be tense, ready to snap awake at any moments notice. Even though he's been using pajamas more often(what can he say, Sam makes him soft) he'd be wearing a jacket on mornings like this. Jackets have weapons, hell, they are a weapon, putting up a front for the world, and Dean knows more than anyone how you sometimes need protection from the cold.

And Castiel? Well, Castiel would have been watching over the bunker, before he fell. Now, he lays wherever he can, still not used to needing sleep, and not sure why he needs this much. It seems like a waste to Castiel, but after spilling a few cups of scalding coffee on himself from exhaustion, he decides not to question it.

Cas sleeps wherever. At least, he used to. He tried to sleep on the couch with Kevin, as far away as possible, but it turns out he's not as light as he was as an angel either, because the couch started making all these creaking noises and he jumped out as quickly as possible. (Dean thinks it's funny, makes jokes about the angel wings kept him light. Cas only scowls.) He tried sleeping on the floor for the first time when Sam was on a case, grabbing a few extra blankets and wrapping himself up. Somehow he managed to roll in front of Dean's door, and got hit on his hairline hard when Dean heard his phone ringing from the kitchen and opened the door harshly, thinking it was Sam. Cas doesn't ever talk about that incident, but he knows that Dean still feels guilty, and personally, Sam thinks that it left a pretty bad ass scar.

Dean wouldn't let Cas sleep on the floor anymore after that. Cas protests, but to no use. And he doesn't particularly care if he lost that argument, because his replacement floor is Deans bed, and Dean is wonderfully, comfortably warm. Castiel likes warmth.

This morning is different from all the others like it though, although the aching chill is the same, biting through clothing and skin and down to the bones, painfully yet swiftly. Somebody is awake, and that lonely number is soon to become two.

Dean Winchester sits in the kitchen fully dressed, waiting for the coffee to brew and the kitchen to fill with the smell that reminds Dean of warmth. He shivers just a slight bit, and pulls his coat a bit tighter around himself, presses his legs closer together. He desires warmth and Castiel, but if given a choice, would always choose the latter.

A steady dripping noise fills the kitchen, and Dean pulls himself out of his thoughts enough to notice that the coffee's almost done. Sam and Kevin will be mad when they get up, noticing that the days coffee is cold, but they'll find it in their hearts to forgive him when Dean comes back from his trip, smiling in a way that he rarely gets to. And they won't mention it when Castiel enters the room behind him, smiling at all.

Dean stands up, and grabs the half-and-half out of the fridge, noting that it's almost empty and thinking about grabbing some the next time he gets food. He briefly wonders when half-and-half became a staple in his life, but he knows that Kevin prefers it and that Cas fucking craves in, along with a bit of sugar and vanilla(why vanilla, he'll never understand) so he lets it go. He reaches up, grabbing the sugar and the vanilla from the very top of the cabinet, when he hears a sleepy voice behind him.

"Hello Dean." The voice says, gravelly and sleep ridden. Dean knows who it is, hell, can tell who it is with just the words, but he turns around anyway.

"Hey Cas." He says, setting the vanilla and sugar down as Cas blinks slowly, one, two, three times. "You didn't need to get up, I was going to wake you up soon anyway." Cas nods tiredly, and Dean knew that last night had been a rough night of sleep for him, had felt it every time Cas had tossed and turned, had heard it every time Cas said "Sorry, Dean," when he bumped into him. Dean knows he's used to getting less sleep than Cas, and wishes that Cas had stayed in bed just a little longer. Cas slouches down, into the chair that Dean was sitting in, and lays his head against the counter. The silence is thick in the room, and Dean aches to remedy that with the clink of coffee cups.

"So, I was thinking that today we could hit North Main, maybe go to the library, it would be good to have you rent a few books, maybe you could be a big nerd like Sammy, or finally understand some of the references I make." Dean says, filling kitchen with chatter to make up for the silence. He pours himself a cup of coffee, then sets it aside, pouring half-and-half into Cas' cup. "Plus," He adds, putting the half-and-half away and putting some vanilla into the coffee next, "Kevin wants me to see if they have any books on folklore. Didn't say why, though." He tops off the cup with a dash of sugar and pours the coffee in.

"We'll need to get you a library card though." Dean adds, turning back around and giving Cas his cup of coffee, which Cas accepts with a sleepy smile, rubbing at the scruff on his face before taking a long sip of his drink. Dean takes his own mug and sits across from Castiel, leaning forward and drinking, finally feeling the warmth hit him and it's wonderful, a respite from the brisk cold.

"What do you think?" Dean asks finally, rolling his shoulders to get the lasting stiffness out of them. Castiel considers briefly.

"I think," Cas says, stretching his arms out wide as his joints crack, "That a library card would be the first valid I.D. that I've ever had." Dean barks out a laugh, though he knows that the joke was only for his sake.

"Isn't that the truth?" Dean asks, finishing his coffee quickly, and taking his and Cas' empty mug to the sink.

"I must go change. I will be out soon." Cas says, and like a flash, he has left, leaving only a flash of stunning blue eyes in his path. Dean smiles fondly. Something about that statement was just so... Cas, and it could only be more Cas like if there was a 'I don't understand' thrown in there. Dean loves that.

Dean goes to get his boots from beside the door, pulling them on quickly and lacing them up as he waits for Cas to come out. He taps his foot out to some old song as he looks for coats in the closet, something he doesn't quite recognize, probably something that his mother used to sing to him but he has since forgotten. He almost doesn't care if he finds out.

Cas walks out of his room, his footsteps hitting the hardwood floor, quiet no matter how many times Dean tells him that he doesn't have to be quiet, when safe, Sam and Kevin can sleep through a shit storm. He's wearing a soft looking sweater, one that is dipping off of his shoulder, showing off pale skin, and dark jeans. (Dean remembers that first time he got Castiel to wear good jeans. There had been a smile, and an awkward walk for a few days and Cas got used to actually being comfortable. Cas never looked back.) No trench coat, either, though Dean still keeps it in the back of the Impala just in case.

"Alright." Dean says, tossing Cas the thickest coat he has, rummaging through the closet to find another, almost as thick one, before putting it on. Dean zips it up, before looking back and winking at Cas. "Let's do this."

* * *

It's not that Cas can't drive, exactly, or that he doesn't understand driving. It's more that he chooses to ignore all precautions and laws while driving, zipping through the lanes and blatantly ignoring stop lights, not even slowing down before he stops, ever. Dean has to barter with him to even wear a seatbelt, as Cas claims he feels it's too restricting. If Dean didn't know any better, didn't know that Cas was a 'celestial being,' he would think that Cas had to have been a hippie in a past life.

Dean thinks that Cas forgets he's human sometimes, forgets how easily he is injured by something as simple as a car crash. He forgets his body is destructible now, or maybe he just doesn't care anymore, wants to prove that he's the same old Cas. And Dean, well Dean just worries. About Cas. And about how destructible he really is.

Hence the driving lessons now, or so Dean claims to Cas. Cas knows how to drive, he just sucks. And as the days progress, they've been taking small steps, towards making it possible for Cas to someday actually drive the team somewhere for a long distance of time. (But only, Dean thinks, if he himself has a broken leg and Sammy's exhausted. There is no way Dean is trusting Cas with his Baby at speeds higher than thirty in the near future.) Todays lesson is turning.

It's not very far to the goddamn library. Not more than a few miles. It should be impossible for there to be too many turns then, but lo' and behold, Dean finds himself being slammed around hard every other goddamn minute.

"Cas, slow on corners!" Dean exclaims for what feels like the millionth time. Cas looks at him questioningly, those brilliant blue eyes looking at him before Dean snaps "Keep your eyes on the road." Cas does, stares at it so intently that Dean would think that it could catch on fire with the stares intensity. He comes up to another corner and Dean tenses himself, grabbing on to whatever he could, as Cas turns. This turn, however, is painfully slow, Cas' face a mask of perfect concentration as he turns a perfect ninety degrees into the library parking lot, before parking perfectly in one of the few parking spots of the library. Parking was two weeks and a day ago's lesson.

There is only one other car in the parking lot when Cas and Dean get out of the Impala.

"Was that last turn to your satisfaction, Dean Winchester?" Castiel asks, a questioning look on his face, one with a slight bit of hope. Dean briefly considers telling Cas the truth, but sees Cas' face.

"Cas." He says, choosing his words carefully. "That last turn was better that all the rest."

Cas smiles at that.

Together, they walk the short distance to the door of the library, shoulders brushing together on every other step. Cas stumbles on the crumbled pavement, still not quite used to human walking, even after many months, but straightens up quickly. Dean pretends not to notice.

"Son of a bitch." Dean swears under his breath, looking at the library times.

Tuesdays, 1p.m. to 5 p.m. It's 7:30.

"Well Cas, looks like we're not getting in right now," Dean says, straightening back up and looking at Cas. "You wanna go and get something...?" He leaves the statement open-ended, hoping Cas will say yes, and they can go, perhaps to one of the cozy looking diners down the road, maybe split a waffle or slice of pie or something. But before he can say anything, a bustling woman comes and opens the door.

"Can I help you two dears?" The woman asks.

"Well," Dean discreetly checks her name tag, "Esther, my friend and I were hoping to rent a few books, but the library seems to be closed. We were just about to leave." Dean grabs Cas' forearm and begins to pull him away.

"Well, if you sweeties would like to come in, I'm reorganizing a few of the bookshelves. It's not officially open, but I'll let you rent a few books anyway." She smiles at Cas.

Briefly, Dean considers that this woman may be insane. Doesn't she realize that it's not safe to just let people in? But, he supposes, not all people are hunters either, and this is a small town. Dean considers leaving anyway, but he remembers the entire reason that he came when he looks at Cas.

"Yes ma'am, thank you." Dean says, and follows her through the door.

"I don't think I've seen you around here before." Esther says, looking at Cas. "Are you new here?" A blast of warmth envelops Dean as the door swings shut behind him, and he steps onto the padded carpet. He shrugs his coat off, and takes Cas' too, knowing that if he doesn't Cas will forget and overheat. It's been months since Cas turned human, but Dean knows he forgets the little things.

"I moved here a few months ago." Cas replies, looking slightly awkward.

"Where were you from before? We don't get many new people around these parts. Did you come with anybody?" Cas' eyes widen. Dean knows that he doesn't know how to answer those questions.

"He's from Toledo, ma'am." Dean supplies. "Moved out here with me, my brother, and a friend." The room then fills with silence.

"Well." Esther says, looking between the two men. "I'll just let you get your books then. Any specific kind?"

"I'm looking for some stuff on folklore. This one will go to," He considers Cas briefly "the young adults section."

"The folklore is over there." Esther says, pointing to a small rust colored bookshelf. "Along with fairy tales and fantasy fiction. Children's and young adults over there." She tilts her head the opposite way. "I'm going to reorganize the Non-fiction section, but don't be afraid to ask me for help if you need anything." Dean nods.

"Thanks." he says, and the same time Castiel says "Thank you." Esther walks away.

"Dean." Cas starts. "I will go look at the literature. You get the books for Kevin Tran."

"Sure thing Cas." Dean says, and goes to the small bookshelf.

"Fantastic Beasts of the Northwestern Hemisphere." He mutters, looking at the first title. "Sounds like a great bedtime story."

Fifteen minutes later and he's also picked up a few more books, The Dark and What it Hides, and The Mystic Lady and Other False Truths, and sat them at the front desk while he waits for Castiel to emerge out of the towering bookshelves in the young adult section. Esther appears again.

"Would you like me to ring up your books while you wait for your friend?" She asks kindly. Dean glances over to the section yet again.

"Sure. I better go see what he's up to."

The first aisle of books is empty, nothing out of place save for a few empty spaces where books used to be. Same with the second aisle. When he gets to the third, though, he forces himself to stifle a laugh. Cas is sitting on the floor, criss cross applesauce, a pile of books near his right elbow, a few scattered on the ground near his left. The first Harry Potter book is in his lap, and he's staring at it intently with a furrowed brow. The image is over all one of the cutest things Dean has ever seen, and he's seen a seven-foot teddy bear.

Cas must have heard his choked off laugh, because he looks up.

"Hello Dean." He says in a grave voice. "This book has no logic. Motorcycles cannot fly. Their mass is too great and they have no aerodynamic support." At that, Dean bursts out laughing.

"Cas. Of all the unrealistic things in that book, you choose that? What about the talking snake? What about the donkeys with wings? What about the goddamn magic?"

"Dean, do not spoil this for me. Besides, you of all people should not laugh at unrealistic creatures or magic. Have you considered your line of work?" Cas tilts his head.

"Cas, pick up your books and let's go." Dean says, offering his hand for Cas to grab onto to get up. Cas accepts it, and then starts to pick up his books. There's more than Dean expected, and he helps Cas pick them up.

"You sure you'll be able to read all of these in a week?" Dean asks, teasing him. "Wouldn't want you to be holed up in the bunker for too long. Might drive me crazy, only having Sam and Kevin for company."

"Dean. It said on the door that book rentals last for twenty-one days. I will be able to read all of these books in time to return them." Cas says, dropping the books off at the front desk. "I would like to rent these." He tells Esther.

"Of course sweetie. Do you have a card?" Cas looks at Dean with wide eyes.

"No ma'am, he doesn't." Dean quickly says. "Do you have a form?"

"Sure thing, just let me get it..." The older woman bends down to get it from a slot beneath her desk, then hands it to the pair, along with a pen.

"Here you go!" Cas takes the form and begins to fill it out as Esther checks in his books. They had agreed to make his birthday early March, 1983, and when Dean takes the form from him to make sure that the information is all right, he sees, scrawled across the top in messy handwriting, is a name: Castiel Jimmy Winchester. Deans heart pangs to see how Cas is so officially a part of his family, how he's a Winchester now, and he hands the form back to Esther before he can get too attached. She puts it in a file with similar looking forms, and hands Cas a card.

"Sign it, and I can scan it then give you your books." Cas signs the card before turning to Dean, a smile blossoming on his face.

"Dean." He urges. "I can now rent books."

"You sure can, Cas." Dean says, smiling, and playfully leans into him.

"Here you go, all checked out!" Esther announces, pushing the books towards them. "Have a nice day, sweethearts!"

"You too." Dean says, and they leave.

"You know," Dean says, loading the trunk full of books while Cas hands them to him, "I think this might be one of the most valid forms of identification anybody in our family has ever had." Dean looks at Cas, expecting at least a smile, but instead gets a confused look.

"You consider me to be in your family?" Cas says quietly, looking up at Dean as he hands him the last of the books. Dean tries to play it off as a joke.

"Of course, your library card says Winchester, doesn't it?" He laughs. But Cas is looking at him, with a considering look in his eyes.

"I mean, you consider me to be somebody you... love?"

Dean... isn't sure how to respond to that. Sure, he could take the easy was out, and say he considers Cas to be like a brother to him, like Sam. But he didn't want to. He just...

Dean grabs Castiel and kisses him.

Well, that's the technical way to say it. It was more than that, really, but that's the most simplest way to say it. It was an embrace, wanted by both. They stood there, chapped lips touching softly, Deans rough hands holding Castiel's hips and Cas putting his hands in Deans hair. He grabs it softly, pulling himself closer because it's _so damn cold_.

Finally, they break apart, Dean wearing a blush and a smile. And he finally figures out what to say.

"Cas, you're part of the family."

And later, it doesn't matter what Sam and Kevin are going to think when they see Dean positively beaming, or how Sam will react when they kiss for the first time in front of them. It doesn't matter what others will think, or how they'll react to seeing this unlikely duo.

Hell, it doesn't even matter how many turns Cas will screw up on the way home.

Because they're family, and that's what matters.

**If you have any criticisms about my writing, you may tell me if you so wish. Yet again, sorry Dean was so OOC.**


End file.
